


Nothing's The Same

by pikablob



Category: Hilda (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Johanna loves Hilda but she made mistakes, Loneliness, Nobody's Coping, Runaway Hilda AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 11:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30138990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikablob/pseuds/pikablob
Summary: Months after Hilda ran away from home, Johanna marks her daughter's birthday with only Tontu for company.[Set in myRunaway Hilda AU, but you don't need to read anything else to understand this.]
Relationships: Johanna | Hilda's Mum & Tontu (Hilda)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	Nothing's The Same

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion fic to [Everything's Changed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29786652), and takes place between chapters 4 and 5 of [The 5+1 Runaway Hilda AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29020464/chapters/71227164), but you don't need to have read those first.
> 
> Recommended Songs: [The Last Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2bbKJsVdIXQ&list=PLt2iv23quT9se1i-QAb-L8uHX6s9B8YEn&index=3), [Boreas](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=frC97DhJQYc&list=PLt2iv23quT9se1i-QAb-L8uHX6s9B8YEn&index=26), [Cold Is The Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDdV_x513dc&list=PLt2iv23quT9se1i-QAb-L8uHX6s9B8YEn&index=18).

Part of Johanna wished she could forget what the date was. She knew it all too well; it was a cold and rainy February morning, a few days short of nine months since Hilda had run away from home, and it was her daughter’s eleventh birthday.

She could never forget that Hilda was missing, but sometimes she could pretend it didn’t hurt. Most days now she coped, because she had to; she had her new job with the Safety Patrol to worry about, and the city needed her, and so she bottled up her worries about Hilda and did her best to work through it.

She had planned to do the same today, hoping the work would distract her from everything inside. She’d pulled on her patrol uniform on autopilot, trying to steel herself for the day ahead, but in the end she couldn’t do it. Her thoughts were too jumbled, too painful; she knew she would be more of a hindrance than a help to the Patrol in this state.

So she had radioed Gerda and called in sick. As her partner, Gerda understood what she was going through, Johanna knew, and as the Patrol’s new Head Officer, nobody could stop her giving Johanna the day off.

But that left Johanna alone and listless, home in a nearly empty apartment; with Hilda gone, Alfur had moved out; Tontu was still around, and he cared in his way, but he struggled with heavy emotions and knew when it was better to leave Johanna alone.

She couldn’t help remembering Hilda’s last birthday, the first one she’d had in the city. Everything had seemed so much simpler then; Johanna had baked her favourite pie, then the largest chocolate cake she could fit in the oven, and Hilda’s friends had come around for presents and board games.

Why couldn’t today have been like that? Why did Johanna have to be alone, in a cold and empty apartment? Was Hilda all alone right now, too; was she lonely, or did she even still think of her mother at all?

Johanna’s thoughts turned as she drifted across the apartment. Old insecurities reared their ugly heads, given new voices by her worries and fears. When had Hilda stopped trusting her? When had her attempts to keep her daughter safe driven a wedge between them? And when had Joanna become the kind of mum she had always tried not to be?

She tried to suppress those thoughts; what else could she have done, when Hilda was running off into danger and lying to her at every corner? She’d had to put her foot down, she reminded herself; as much as it hurt, doing what was best for Hilda meant keeping her away from all the dangers she loved so much. That didn’t make it any easier.

Johanna sighed, feeling her eyes start to sting as she made her way down the corridor. She hesitated for a moment as she passed her daughter’s old room; the place was just how she had left it, everything Hilda owned still in its place; Johanna wanted it to still feel like home ~~if~~ when the girl came back.

Johanna lingered in the doorway for a moment, looking over that empty bed, before moving on. She headed for her own bedroom; she wasn’t quite sure what drove her, but there was something in there she always turned to when those thoughts got too much. Finally she reached her own door, her gaze falling on her bedside table.

There, resting right where she always kept it, was a large snow globe. Under the domed glass stood a tiny replica of the Sonstansil Tree, delicately carved out out of porcelain, the flowers reflective so they shined in the light. It had been Hilda’s gift to her, the Sonstansil before last, and it was her best reminder of happier times.

Tears started to run down down her face as she picked it up and held it up to the light, remembering that night. She just wanted to go back to that, to a time before Hilda disappeared and her life fell apart and everything changed. But she couldn’t, and that stung deep somewhere in her chest.

She sat down gently on her bed, wiping away the worst of her tears with one sleeve. Memories swirled as she looked down at the globe: the good times; the warm hugs and the board game nights and the shared experiences; and the bad; the lies, the arguments, the mistrust in the air. It was like she could hear Hilda in her mind, ‘I love you’ and ‘I hate you’ overlapping at once in her words.

“Mom?” a familiar nasally voice cut through her spiralling thoughts. Johanna sniffed sharply, her gaze turning down to the bedroom door.

Tontu was standing there; she couldn’t see his eyes, but his rounded nose was turned down and there was hesitation in his body. In his hands he held a mug of tea, steam rising from the brown liquid, and gingerly he held it up.

“I, err, I know it’s not much,” he said quietly, still looking down, “but I made you tea?”

Johanna sniffed again, feeling some embers of warmth ignite beneath all the pain inside. The gesture touched at her heart, and she felt the worst of her feelings recede just a little as she set down the snow globe and reached down to take the mug.

“Thank you, Tontu,” she said gently, lifting it up and letting the steam fill her nostrils. “I appreciate it.” It smelled of warmth, and in a way she couldn’t quite explain, of care and reassurance. She inhaled the smell with a long slow breath, then took a sip.

Tontu lingered in the doorway. She got the sense, somehow, that he wanted to say more. So she sniffed away her tears and patted the bedsheets beside her with her free hand, inviting him up. He nodded in understanding, scrambling up onto the bed beside her and perching gingerly on the edge. His legs kicked the empty air, and for a moment he was quiet.

“I miss her too, y’know?” he said finally. Johanna tensed; she couldn’t see his face through the fur, but there was sadness in his voice. “I really thought she’d come back by now; I had a whole birthday gift planned out and everything, but I don’t know if she’ll ever get to see it.”

“Oh Tontu.” Johanna couldn’t help reaching out with her free arm, looping it over his tiny body. He froze at her touch.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice a little choked up.

“For what?” she couldn’t help asking. He shook his head slowly, regretfully.

“For what I did that night,” he admitted. “I’m the one who helped Hilda sneak out to go see Frida; if I hadn’t done that then maybe you wouldn’t have fought so bad.”

Johanna could remember that night all too well. Her daughter defying her and sneaking out to go and see Frida had been the last straw, the breaking point that brought their relationship crashing down. Everything had exploded into an argument in which Johanna had said plenty of things she regretted; deep down, she was sure Hilda regretted some things too. But reconciliation had never been on the table; when Johanna had gone to check on her the next morning, all that had been there was an empty bedroom and an open window, her daughter and Twig long gone.

“Maybe,” Tontu added suddenly, his voice cracking a little; Johanna hadn’t heard him hurt like this since that awful night, “maybe she would still be here.”

Johanna didn’t even really think. She just pulled him close against her side, as if the nisse was her own child, and gave his tiny body a tight squeeze. He didn’t seem to know how to react, tensing up all over again for a moment. Finally she felt him relax a little, leaning up against her side.

“It isn’t your fault,” she replied. “What happened that night was between me and Hilda; I… I think we would’ve had that argument anyway.” It was a bitter thing to admit, but deep down she knew it was true. The line had been drawn between her and her daughter over longer than just that night and more than just one defiance.

“You mean that?” he asked gingerly.

“Yes,” she replied, the lump still in her throat. “I do.” He let out a murmur of reluctant agreement, snuggling deeper against the side of her coat.

It wasn’t much, but there was a feeling of quiet reassurance in the air. The wound of Hilda’s disappearance still stung, and she doubted it would ever heal unless her daughter came running home. But at least, Johanna thought, she didn’t have to bear that burden entirely on her own; she had him, and she had Gerda, and a few friends in the Patrol. She wasn’t alone, and that was something. She took another sip of the tea, savouring the warmth as it ran down her throat.

Tontu let out a sigh. “I hope Hilda comes home soon.”

“Me too, Tontu,” she replied softly, “me too.”


End file.
